


I'll See You in My Dreams

by Nemirovitch



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Prophetic Dreams, Psychological Horror, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-17 06:37:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemirovitch/pseuds/Nemirovitch
Summary: A good man gets a good night's rest and has pleasant dreams. Hickey's not a good man.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2019





	I'll See You in My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [draculard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/gifts).

The ship is deathly silent now, the ice settled to a hardness that will take years to break. Hickey walks the boards with muffled footsteps. He knows he's dreaming, and that's fine.

“You really think you're dreaming?” Gibson's voice has that slightly derisive quality that belies his meek features.

Hickey turns to see the man he murdered that very day. “Hello, Billy. Fancy a quick shag?”

Billy gives him that dismissive laugh, the one intended to needle Hickey, yet only succeeds in amusing him more. “Cornelius, you're going to get royally fucked, but not in the way you like.”

He takes out something from his pocket, and Hickey sees it gleam under the lamplight. “You going to shank me, then?”

“Still got my blood on it,” Billy says as he turns the knife over in the light, and as he does so, the yellow-orange of the lamps start to turn red. “As I said, you think this is a dream. It isn't, it's just a taste of what's waiting for you.”

All the lamps darken now, leaving a single blood-red light that shines over Hickey's shoulder from behind. He turns to see he's now at the entrance to the sick room. A shadow forms behind the curtain that solidifies into Goodsir.

The curtain draws open and Goodsir appears, weary and hardened by what he's seen and done. “Would you like to see your handiwork, Mr. Hickey?” There's a challenging tone in his voice, so far from his old self. But that was a lifetime ago now.

Goodsir steps back so Hickey can see the bodies laid out in the room. His mutinous crew, slashed and gored, faces contorted with fear and pain, lie there. Hickey smells rotting meat and his mouth starts to water.

A figure is huddled in the corner, laughing sarcastically to himself. “I'm not dead, might as well be, though.” He rakes at his shredded trouser legs. “Crawling like a wounded dog until I drop, that's how I'm going,” Des Voeux is all self-pity now. “How did I manage to let you talk me into this?”

Hickey hasn't been listening, he's been enchanted by the bodies and has been circling the tables like he's deciding on a dessert. “I'm going to do this? Make all this happen?”

“Unless someone stops you, or you stop yourself,” Goodsir's voice is flat and lifeless.

“So you're appealing to my better nature?” Hickey's ready to burst out laughing, his rat-like features jutting out in the strange light.

“Cornelius, you know you haven't got one,” Billy says, exasperated, as he slashes the knife along Hickey's arm.

It hurts so much more than he knows it should, and Hickey stares in shock. There's an excruciating, crushing pain halfway along his arm, shooting through his body. His tongue feels heavy and numb now, and his brain feels like it's afire. He's fallen to his knees now, agony searing his entire body.

“You really should see a doctor about that, Mr. Hickey,” Des Voeux says.

“You've made your choice, Mr. Hickey. I pray this course of events is not entirely set in stone. Perhaps there may be a chance of saving one or two men,” Goodsir says sadly.

Huddled into a foetal position, Hickey's entire world is now pain and the single blood-red lamp.

He's set foot on his path, now.


End file.
